


O Eagle, O Flower

by DeathServedWine



Category: Assassin's Creed, Assassin's Creed 3 - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Surprise Party, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathServedWine/pseuds/DeathServedWine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the moment she first met Connor, she had fallen in love. And what about Connor, you ask? Well… he hasn’t noticed. At all. This love thing was going to be harder than she thought.</p>
<p>A short imagining of a potential love interest for Connor with plenty of food and drink and gratitude to spare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	O Eagle, O Flower

**Author's Note:**

> Things you should know before you start reading:
> 
> 1\. Oh lawdy is it a long one.  
> 2\. The love interest is an OC.  
> 3\. Ironically, I wrote this before reaching the thank-you party for Connor, so I was pretty stoked about that.   
> 4\. This really got away from me. I think that’s mostly because the Homestead is always so chill that it’s just kinda like, “Lol, wut we doin’ todai guyz?”  
> 5\. I’m terrible at old speech.  
> 6\. I tried to write Connor as true to his character as possible, but also true to the level of the gamer. Let’s face it, you’ve fallen out of trees like an idiot too.  
> 7\. I’m sorry.

                 As snow fell silently outside, a fire within popped and crackled with incessant fervor. A black, tarnished pot dangled above the flames, sizzling with renewed vigor as a wooden ladle, aged from frequent use, stirred its contents. With a spoonful of a thickened broth pooling in the center, the ladle ascended towards the rose-tinged lips of its handler—a weathered creature whose fragility paralleled that of the pot swaying below. This creature, of course, was a girl with a most unusual name: Edelweiss.

                 It had been a rather uneventful week at the homestead. With the recent introduction to winter, there arose a noticeable diminishment in the small town’s typical vitality. And it was hardly unexpected; it was, after all, freezing. There was no reason to prance about carelessly so long as snow descended from the sky. But even so, the change in season affected more than just the frontier. The friction between Achilles and Connor, despite its usual tendency to scald, had plummeted to subzero temperatures. The two had clashed (yet again) over disagreements in their philosophies. And although these squabbles would give rise to raised voices, heavy boots, and slammed doors, they achieved resolution within a matter hours. This last time, however, was different. Out of frustration, Connor had stormed out of the manor carrying both stubbornness and confidence in his stride as he approached his horse saddled with a few of his possessions. With the sharpness of his tongue, he delivered a couple quips, and disappeared, melding with the foliage of the forest.

                Needless to say, the image had provoked a subtle panic within Edelweiss that curled its way around her heart and mercilessly wrenched it. The dread that spurred from the realization that he may never return was crushing. It had all seemed so final.

                However, as time passed, the familiar and thunderous sound of hooves in the distance filled the brisk evening air. Stirred from her slumber, Edelweiss peered out of the frosted glass of her window to see a white, hooded vision enter the manor. For what seemed like ages, muffled voices reverberated on the walls, testifying to the life within the manor. Edelweiss, on the other hand, remained perched at the windowsill wrapped in a blanket, a small and excited smile threatening to become an unrestrained grin. She was all too pleased to hear the calmer tones being passed between Achilles and Connor, but if she was being honest, her impatience was becoming difficult to suppress. She was, after all, staying awake for the sole purpose of seeing Connor just “once”, or so she told herself. As she attempted to convince herself that there were no other inclinations or motives behind her self-inflicted sleep deprivation, she was suddenly thrust from her reverie and into reality with a single noise.

                The rhythmic thuds of heavy boots as they ascended the stairs echoed just beyond her door. And though they belonged to Connor, Edelweiss found herself paralyzed with hesitation; a motionless statue in the darkness of her bedroom. Questions of doubt swarmed her mind: _What if Connor was still angry?_

                The footsteps reached the top of the stairs.

                _What if he was tired?_

They thumped in front of her door.

                … _What if he wasn’t staying after all?_

                They were passing by.

                As if possessed by an unstoppable force, she lunged for the doorknob and—    

_Creeeaaakkk._

                To her dismay, the sound of her door effectively cutting into the stillness had unnerved her, but not nearly as much as the silence that followed. At the end of the hall, in front of the window, there stood a silhouetted figure whose outline was illuminated by the faint glow of the moonlight that was pooling onto the floor.

                “Edelweiss?”

                Timidly peeking from her doorway, she greeted, “Ah, _hello_... Connor.”

                Turning to face her properly, Connor stepped forward once while asking, “What are you doing awake?”

                Awkward from the situation, she replied, “I… was hoping to wish you good night.” The moment the words departed from her lips, she immediately regretted them. _I’ve certainly said more foolish things, I suppose._

For what seemed like an eternity, Connor stood still, his visage enshrouded in darkness. Unable to withstand the torturous fires of his gaze, Edelweiss shifted her weight and clutched the brass handle of her door while stating hurriedly, “And I think I indirectly did just that, so… so glad to see you’re back, Connor. Good night!”

                “Ah, good night, Ed—”

                _Click!_

                Heart racing and skin flushed from embarrassment, Edelweiss lingered by the wall until the sound of his footsteps dissipated. Frustrated with her strange behavior, she let out a hefty sigh while muttering jokingly, “Well, at least I didn’t walk out nak—” It was here when the realization dawned on her. She had foolishly stepped out of her room in her nightgown; a very inappropriate faux-pas for a lady.

                 “God damn it.”

                Also a very inappropriate verbalization for a lady.

                 You see, in case it wasn’t painfully obvious, Edelweiss was in love with Connor. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say she was in an _unrequited_ love with Connor. And despite the girl’s inability to dally in subtleties, her affections had gone largely unnoticed by the careful assassin. As for the residents of the homestead, however, that was a different story. They had picked up on her awkward doting fairly early in the development of the romance—or lack thereof—but still refrained from revealing it before either party was ready. Or perhaps they simply hoped to capitalize on this humorous situation for as long as humanly possible.

                And so, here she was, tending to a large pot of warm stew in Achilles’s hearth. She had heard from Corrine countless times that the key to a man’s heart was through his stomach, obviously a thinly veiled attempt to assist with her love life. But this cooking venture had two other purposes: the first was to mend the bonds between the temporarily estranged assassins while the second was for the feast currently being prepared by the residents in honor of Connor’s return and in gratitude to his continuous assistance. However, Edelweiss was also well aware of Achilles’s extreme distaste for overwhelming social interaction, and so she had opted to cook the stew within the manor so he would not be burdened with preparing his own supper. The thought of him alone while she and the others partook in the night’s festivities racked her conscience with guilt, and so she felt that this was the least she could do despite his obvious preference for solemnity.

                As she poured the soup into a bowl, she called out across the threshold, “Achilles! I’ve finished the stew! May I bring it to you?”

                From atop the stairs billowed a raspy and distracted voice, “No, dear, just leave it there. I’ll come for it when I’m ready.”

                Shaking her head, Edelweiss ventured up the stairs; bowl in one hand, spoon in the other. Though her footsteps were light, they were no match for Achilles’s sharpened senses.

                “I said I’d get it when I was ready. Why does no one in this house abide by my wishes?”

                Smirking in the doorway of the room, Edelweiss placed a hand on her hip before saying, “It’s warm _now_. I’d feel more at ease knowing it’s in your presence, tempting you.”

                Achilles allowed a brief chuckle to escape his throat. “Only you can make a meal sound so sinister. Give it here then,” he said as he reached for the bowl, “and be off. You’ve wasted enough time here and I’m sure that fool is off gallivanting in the forest, worrying everyone.”

                Edelweiss folded her arms and crossed her legs as she leaned against the adjacent wall. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer any company? I could eat here with you before I leave.”

                “No, child, I’m quite alright. You best be heading out anyway. That snow will not stay serene for much longer.”

                Gazing out the window at the softly falling snowflakes, Edelweiss nodded quietly, “I suppose you’re right. I’ll be on my way then. Make sure you eat!”

                “Hah,” he scoffed, “I shall the moment it becomes edible.”

                Leaning back into his peripheral vision, Edelweiss feigned shock as she defended, “I tasted it! I swear it’s good this time. Delicious, even!”

                “I’ve been lied to before,” Achilles grinned. “Take a horse with you, Edel. It’s much too treacherous to linger in this weather beyond necessity.”

                Descending the stairs quickly, she called back, “I will! Farewell!”

 

* * *

 

 

                As the mare trotted slowly behind her, Edelweiss trudged along the snow-riddled path to The Mile’s End Inn in silence, her pot carefully balanced between her arm and her waist. Having temporarily taken up residence within her mind, she pondered Connor’s whereabouts—and wellbeing for that matter. She knew he was fully capable of taking care of himself; he had made that abundantly clear upon their first meeting. However, as nimble and agile as he was, she had still witnessed moments of his folly. Whether it was underestimating the distance between branches, falling into the river, missing the piles of leaves, or failing to react to a predator’s assault, Connor was not impervious to error, and by extension, danger.

                For now though, she would have to tuck her worries away for the lanterns of The Mile’s End inn were upon her, flooding her pale face with its soft amber glow. Winding her way to the front entrance, Edelweiss motioned to secure the horse when she was suddenly greeted by Norris: “Ah, Edel, bienvenue! Allow me to take care of that for you.”

                “Much appreciated, Norris,” she smiled, “Is everyone inside already?”

                As Norris wrapped the reins around the log, he answered, “Oui, save for Myriam and Connor. The ladies are still trying to set the tables, so we need Myriam to delay a little longer. You should take that pot inside or it will get too cold.”

                “So it will. Thank you, Norris.”

                 Spinning on her heel, Edelweiss entered the inn, and in doing so, released an atmosphere of warmth and merriment into the night air. As Norris had said, all of the main residents had gathered in the room, engaging in boisterous chatter and various forms of amusement. Ellen, Prudence, and Corrine were calmly setting the tables with a bounty of food, drinks, and cutlery while Maria coddled Hunter in a nearby chair. Dr. White, Lance, and Warren stood at the opposite end of the table, passing jokes and bursting with laughter. Godfrey and Terry, on the other hand, were neatly tucked away in a corner near the bar, indulging in a very aggressive game of checkers as they sipped at the froth of their ales. As for Oliver, he was cheerfully conversing with the remaining patrons of the inn (Timothy included) in an effort to welcome them into his humble abode. It seemed everything was going exactly as planned. All that was truly needed was the guest of honor.

                 “Edel,” Ellen called, “bring that here.”

                Shuffling towards the table, Edelweiss replied, “I’m afraid it got a bit chilled on the way over. Shall I place it over the fire?”

                Ellen smirked, anticipating the coming storm, while Corrine scolded, “Honestly, dear, this is why I said to cook it here! We’re pressed for enough time as it is!”

                “I know, and I’m sorry, but as I said yesterday—if you’ll recall—it simply could not be avoided,” Edelweiss defended as she submerged the pot in the ravenous flames.

                Completely neglecting the girl’s response, Corrine continued on her verbal rampage, “Heaven forbid you heed my advice. I don’t know why I even bother teaching you—you clearly have your own ideas about how things are to be done.”

                Twirling away from the fire, Edelweiss grasped her heart dramatically, "Madam, you wound me! You know I am but a simpleton, incapable of the smallest tasks.”

                With a hearty laugh, Ellen contributed, “Leave the child alone, Corrine. You and I both know her cooking has improved.”

                “Anything is an improvement from the tar she used to brew,” Maria chimed in cheekily.

                With the twitch of her eyebrow, Edelweiss mocked, “Oh _ha ha_. Let’s all get a laugh at the girl who cannot cook, nor clean, nor sew. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must gather Connor—assuming, of course, I can even ride a horse.”

                With the teasing laughter trailing behind her, Edelweiss opened the door and slipped into the winter evening yet again.

 

* * *

 

 

                For most, the location of an assassin was privileged information, and performing a search for one was a task entangled with a monstrous amount of hardship and, quite frankly, blood. Thankfully, for lack of a Templar affiliation, Edelweiss was an exception to the gore-soaked demise. In fact, her searches typically resulted in his immediate surrender (or so she liked to call it), and all it ever required from her was the projection of her voice.

                “Connor!” She shouted from atop her horse as she peered into the towering pines before her. With the snow accumulating on the leaves and branches, it would be a much more difficult endeavor to differentiate his form from the other bunches of white.

                _Snap!_

                Motioning towards the direction of the sound, Edelweiss simply gaped as a stream of powdered snow cascaded from the bristling heavens above.

                “Edelweiss,” a voice echoed, “Is something wrong?”

                From high above on a pedestal of bark, leaves, and snow, there stood a human pillar of strength and virtue that pulsated with raw power. At the surreal vision before her, Edelweiss was rendered speechless as her eyes fixated on his form, the illusion further separating her from reality.

                “No,” Edelweiss recovered, “only the lack of your company. I’ve made a stew over at Corrine’s and it’d be my pleasure to share the spoils of my victory with you.”

                Connor, who had been staring intently at the youthful woman beneath him, shifted his attention to the east with a seemingly regretful look, despite the neutrality in his tone. “I am grateful for the offer. However, I must finish assisting Myriam with her hunt before I can leave.”

                “What are you hunting this time?” She asked.

                Returning his eyes to her, Connor stated, “Deer. I only need one more, but it has been eluding me for some time.”

                Sensing his deteriorating patience, Edelweiss reached for the satchel dangling at her side and pulled out a small pouch. “Would you like some bait, perhaps to speed things along?”

                “Yes, thank you. I would welcome it.”

                “Catch!” She chimed as she heaved the pouch over her head. And yet, in her excitement, Edelweiss had misjudged the distance and as the object came tumbling down with all the force that gravity could muster, it made contact with her head. Needless to say, the contents of said sack emptied upon her, thoroughly coating her shawl and dress. The humiliated girl and the bewildered man exchanged glances as a comically tasteful wind cut between them. Neither knew how to react in such an absurd situation.

                And then Connor coughed. Wait, coughed… or laughed? She wasn’t sure which would be more bearable. However, as Connor moved his hand away from his face, that unfaltering stoicism to which she was accustomed was ever present. Regardless, her embarrassment was short-lived, for in that moment, several wild animals were inching towards her, as if summoned by magic, and among them was a deer.

                “Connor,” she spoke in hushed urgency, “look!”

                Rearing his head behind him, Connor spotted the animal instantaneously. Settling his body into a low crouch, the master hunter patiently waited for his prey to step into the perfect position. The moment it was within range, Connor flew through the air with astounding precision, striking the creature down in one fell swoop. Blood surged from the fatal wound, its tiniest droplets crystallizing in midair, staining the whitened landscape along with Edelweiss’s dress. Despite her misfortune, it was hardly what she’d consider a loss, or a surprise for that matter. This was a scene with which she was all too familiar.

_Several Months Prior_

 

                It was a warm, energetic day in New York as the streets bustled with crafty merchants, vociferous town criers, scurrying children, whispering gossips, and miniscule brigades of Redcoats. The coastal city, with its sapphire waves, was glistening with an awe-inspiring beauty that only served to support its nature as a gem among the other colonies. Despite its dazzling appearance, at its core there lurked a shadow that threatened to consume the undeniable allure with impenetrable darkness. Therefore, it came as no surprise that within the heart of this diverse and rambunctious crowd existed poverty, treachery, and filth. Among this, there stood a girl. A broken, beaten, downtrodden girl lost in the chaos that was the glory of the city.

                 Plagued with perilous hardships day after day, the girl’s body bore the scars of her misfortune, though they never manifested physically. She had lost everything—family, friends, money—with the latest outbreaks of violence and unrest running rampant through the city. And, like most of the other innocent bystanders, the tides of blood had swept her off her feet and ensnared her in its undertow, never to breathe the air that came with true freedom. Now with nothing to her name, she found herself struggling to keep herself afloat, and so in her desperation, she grasped for anything and everything, whether the cost was her dignity, her morality, or her body. Simply trying to survive had obliterated any proper hope for a normal lifestyle—societal expectations, cultural values, and gender roles were definitively absent. And so this girl, though only a mere piece of this broken portrait, contributed to the stain that engulfed the city, threatening its inevitable demise. The only thing still definitively hers was the name bestowed upon her by her mother: Edelweiss.

                 However, with the urgent need for confidentiality in her line of work, Edelweiss had buried her name deep within her heart for safekeeping and substituted it with the much more common Rose. It was so _normal_ in comparison that the choice had required absolutely no thought. And why should it? Its sole purpose was to serve as an alias for a service of a rather demeaning and ill-mannered nature; it didn’t need any flare or appeal to its owner. It was nothing to be proud of. And apparently, Edelweiss—or rather _Rose_ in this situation—was not the only one entertaining such thoughts.

                 It had all happened so suddenly. One moment, a soldier was propositioning her, fees were discussed, and they were on their “merry” way to a more secluded area for a rendezvous of unimaginable passion—or pain, depending on the subject in question. The next moment, _Rose_ was surrounded by several soldiers with her back pinned against a brick-laden wall. Hidden in an alleyway beyond the eyes and ears of the crowd yonder, she was soon buried in a red sea laced with danger and bravado.

                 “This—This isn’t what we discussed,” she ventured, her eyes darting dangerously between the soldiers before her and any possible exit routes within her reach. There were none.

                 The original soldier who had slinked his way back into the group grinned as he rolled his shoulders into a shrug, “Sorry, love. Think of it like I’m… _expanding_ your business. Tell you what, I’ll even throw in a little extra so you can buy yourself something nice, yeah?” With the flick of his fingers, a single coin flew towards her and bounced off her shoulder only to become acquainted with the soil below. The soldiers, with their twisted sense of humor, seemed to find the action hysterical and so erupted into a cacophony of disconcerting laughter.

                 Knowing fully well the ramifications of this predicament, Rose stammered, “Keep your _business_ ; I have no need of it.”

                 As she attempted to push her way through the crowd, she relied entirely on the fantasy that goodness lied within every human soul. However, her dreamscape soon shattered before her as a different soldier snatched up her wrist and pulled her body closer to him.

                 “We’ve already come all this way, so the least you could do is—”

                 Before he could finish, Rose had kicked him in the crotch with as much power as her muscles would allow, sending the man crumbling in pieces to the ground as she took off through the small opening that the stunt had temporarily provided. However, as daring and successful as her escape had been, it was her hair that had condemned her. With her long locks swaying just within reach of her newly acquired enemies, all it had required to destroy her was a well-placed and well-timed hand. As she came reeling back towards the same brick wall, a fist struck her across the face directly over her right eye; its force sending her spiraling into the dirt.

                 “You fuckin’ whore!” A voice shrieked above in unison with a host of other obscenities that she couldn’t seem to make out. At least, not with the ceaseless ringing and sudden vertigo distorting her perception. But, despite the sudden lack of sensation ensnaring her body, the ability to feel pain was still very much intact, and with each kick, punch, or blow she was relentlessly dealt, a searing, aching agony followed and intensified. It wasn’t long before her body became so preoccupied with handling her endless barrage of injuries that it simply began to neglect other sensations, such as the feeling of her dress being torn apart or her blood pooling over her.

                 And then it had all stopped. No pain, no touch, no pressure. Muffled shouts accompanied blurred visions of red scrambling to and fro. As the images seemingly faded into oblivion and the state of the world grew calmer and quieter, her sight grew clearer. Just as it was fully regained, she bore witness to a figure in white tackling a soldier to the ground, tomahawk severing his neck, and blood spraying haphazardly every which way. Despite the utter viciousness of the scene transpiring before her, the swift and fluid movements of the assailant flowed with an unrivaled grace and elegance. So engrossed was she in its appeal, the fatalistic scene must have replayed itself several times on a continual loop, slowing down and speeding up at random. Rose had barely noticed that her body was sitting upright and the man in white was now kneeling before her. She could tell that his lips were moving, his eyes filled with intensity, but she neither heard nor felt the impact of either.

                 It was here when she reached for one of the soldier’s blades and raised it to her jawline, but before she could set out to complete her task, his hand was upon hers with a grip so strong, she was certain he could crush her.

                 “Stop!” The man uttered with a combination of both firmness and surprise, “There is no need for that.”

                 She answered his worries with a calm and confident stare. In that single look, she bared the contents of her very soul, entrusting him with such vulnerability in hopes of conveying her true intentions. Seeming to understand, his grip loosened ever so slightly, allowing enough slack for her to deliver one swift thrust through the strands of her hair. Startled by the abruptness of it all, the man released her hand entirely as she motioned to do the same with the other side.

                 As the remnants of her person laid splayed across the floor—blood, fabric, and hair—a silence filled the gap between the two strangers as a cool breeze gently caressed their faces.

                 It was the man who chose to break it, “You need medical attention.”

                 “I’m fine,” she rebutted.

                 “You are not fine, your body is—”

                 “There is no doctor in this city who will take me,” she interrupted with a regretful certainty.

                 “A home then; where is your fam—”

                 “I don’t have one.”

                 Silence.

                 Removing his hood slowly, the man revealed a sharply chiseled face of native descent adorned with deep and intense brown eyes that threatened to suck in all who foolishly wandered in. He gazed deeply into her battered set and asked sternly, “What is your name?”

                 Without even a hint of doubt to sway her towards dishonesty, she answered quickly, “Edelweiss.”

 

_Present_

                That memory was eternally etched into Edelweiss’s mind. And though her circumstances at the time were severe, she still treasured it as her most beloved recollection of the past, for it was not only the day she gained a home, friends, and normalcy, but it was the day she had discovered her capacity to willingly surrender her heart. Edelweiss had fallen in love with Connor from the moment they met.

                 Connor, guided by his sense of hospitality and duty, had carried her mangled state on his horse across varying terrain all the way to the Davenport Homestead to deliver her into the hands of the very capable Dr. Lyle White. Of course, as she recovered, the issue of her residence was raised by the good doctor. Though many of the residents had volunteered to take her in, it was ultimately Connor who had the final say. His concern for the girl was a heavy influence in his decision, and so Ellen and Maria were selected for the task, given their shared history of violence and, well, gender.

                 However, as grateful and indebted to the two women as Edelweiss was, her attachment to Connor was overwhelmingly strong, and so more often than not, she would place herself in his company, whether he was hunting, helping, or resting in the manor with Achilles. It wasn’t long before the two assassins warmed up to the girl, especially with her occasionally inappropriate behavior. Despite the best efforts of the women of the homestead, Edelweiss was still prone to slipping vulgarities and obscenities that were oftentimes so unexpected, it roused a good laugh from those who had the fortune of it gracing their ears. It was this overly blunt nature that had presumably won over Achilles, and in so doing, granted her access to the manor whenever she pleased. It had officially become her second home. Still, her lack of propriety and practicality were not always met with the same warmth, for the female presence of the small town decided to take it upon themselves to reeducate the girl in femininity. It wasn’t going particularly well, but if her cooking was anything to go by as of late, there was still hope.

                 But that was neither here nor there. For now, her only concern involved reaching the inn. As Edelweiss and Connor delivered the spoils of the deer to Myriam, she was graciously leant a change of clothes by the huntress. Prudence, Ellen, and Corrine were sure to be thrilled with the more masculine fashion choice due to Myriam’s shortage on dresses. Though she worried if this would test their patience, she was willing to pay the price if it meant ridding herself of that all-consuming stench of bait and blood. Now clean and presentable, Edelweiss mounted the horse with some help from Connor and rode away into the snow behind Myriam.

                As Connor steered through trees, he suddenly pondered, “Have you considered allowing your hair to grow again?”

                Sighing with feigned exasperation, she retorted, “Not you too! If I receive any more criticism in regards to my supposed ‘lack of femininity’, I think I’ll just throw my lot in with the men.”

                Connor smiled ever so slightly before explaining, “I had only meant it as a suggestion of function considering the colder weather. You know that I understand your reasons for maintaining its length.”

                A sudden dip in the road forced Edelweiss forward, causing her to grip Connor’s waist tightly. “I do,” she uttered quickly, suddenly very aware of the nonexistent distance between their bodies, “but… I have been considering changing my name lately.”

                He paused for a moment, but then replied, “What would you change it to?”

                “Well,” she started, “Everyone already calls me Edel anyway, so I was thinking I’d just pick the closest thing to it. Like Ethel, for example.”

                “What purpose would that serve?”

                “Convenience I suppose. It’d just be easier if my name was less… _peculiar_ ,” she replied as she readjusted her position.

                Smirking, Connor sagaciously advised, “If that is your reason, I think you should keep your name as it is, _Edelweiss_. It is a good name.”

                “And this is coming from the man who substituted his real name for one more culturally acceptable,” Edelweiss teased.

                “A fair point. But at least everyone can pronounce _your_ name,” he countered.

                Laughing, Edelweiss wondered, “Remind me again what it is?”

                “Ratonhnhaké:ton,” he flawlessly stated.

                “Rah… toh,” she stuttered, “Rat—kon—it’s no use, my strictly English upbringing has doomed me.”

                Connor’s quiet laughter caused her heart to skip a beat. It was so rare to hear him laugh. Was this considered progress? This was definitely progress, right? Resolving that it was indeed _progress_ , Edelweiss was instantly touched. “Thank you, Connor.”

                “For what?” Connor questioned as he briefly peered behind him.

                “For the encouraging words.”

 

* * *

 

 

                “Well look what the cat dragged in!” Terry announced as the door to the inn swung open, presenting the two weather-worn companions.

                As if on cue, the room sang in perfect unison, “Surprise!”

                Firmly setting her hands on her hips and sashaying around the bewildered man frozen beside her, Edelweiss quipped, “So I’ve been demoted to an animal now, have I?”

                Huffing, Corrine gestured at the girl’s attire and retorted, “No, it’s clear you’ve become a man.”

                “Easy, those are _my_ clothes after all,” Myriam warned playfully.

                Still peeved by the unwelcomed vision before her, Corrine continued, “Next thing you know, the girl will show up with a beard!”

                “Now that’s quite an image,” Godfrey exclaimed, “I reckon the lass could give even me a run for my money if that happened.”

                As the spotlight solely focused on its latest victim, its heat intensifying, Connor’s eyes were drawn to her thin, fidgeting form. Though the girl could handle herself when it came to harmless social scrutiny, a hefty dose could send her reeling over the edge into pure embarrassment. Having seen this enough times to know when to anticipate it, Connor visually investigated her body for any of the likely symptoms. However, in doing so, their eyes had unexpectedly locked, causing Edelweiss’s cheeks to darken before she averted her gaze. There was the first sign.

                Like an experienced bodyguard, Connor stepped in and defended, “Her clothes are of no fault of her own. I ruined her dress while hunting.”

                Startled by the unexpected retaliation in her favor, Edelweiss found herself gaping at Connor with the world around her briefly forgotten. As she eyed his mouth form protective words for her sake, she nearly failed to notice the beer being shoved into both her hands and Connor’s. With froth coating her fingers, Edelweiss strengthened her latch on the mug in order to avoid any further spillage.

                Oliver, the culprit responsible for this sudden shift in attention, cheerfully chided, “Ah, Edel, be a boy if you want! You can drink as much as you want that way! And _you_ ,” he pointed at Connor while ignoring the displeased cries of his wife, “should sit down and eat already. We’ve been waiting all night to celebrate you!”

                “Celebrate _me_?” Connor questioned curiously.

                Prudence approached the baffled man while gesturing towards the center of the table festively adorned with decorations and food. With a smile conveying the warmth of the hearts of everyone present, she suggested, “The entire homestead would like to take this moment to show our gratitude for all that you’ve done for us. We know it’s not nearly enough, but we hope our feelings will reach you. Thank you, Connor, from all of us.”

                “To Connor!” Terry cheered as he raised his mug into the air.

                Following suit, the crowd cried, “To Connor!”

                A bit embarrassed and flattered, Connor glanced down at Edelweiss as boisterous chatter filled the room once again. Raising an eyebrow inquisitively, he seemed to be indirectly questioning her involvement in this scheme. The girl quickly took a swig of her beer, offering only a small and uncertain shrug in reply. However, as Connor’s eyes continued to bore into her, she licked the froth off her upper lip and gave him a wide and coy simper.

                “Thank you for everything, Connor.”

 

* * *

 

 

                And so, as the cheers and cries of joy echoed into the night, food was devoured and beer was guzzled with unhindered enthusiasm.  The celebratory feast in Connor’s honor was a success, the warmth of which beckoning the snow to cease. As the festivities wound down, many a merry member stepped into the brisk outside air in search of home, as others saddled their horses for a long trek into the wilderness. Among these silhouettes stood a couple, closely bound together and saddling a horse; Connor and Edelweiss.

                “It would seem that you are improving,” Connor smirked at his companion.

                Glancing up from her work, Edelweiss offered a lazy grin, much too inebriated for anything proper, “You mean my drinking? It comes with being amazing.”

                With a light simper, he stated, “I am sure… but I was referring to your cooking. The soup you prepared was delicious.”

                Edelweiss, who had been fiddling with the straps on the horse, stopped abruptly to spare a glance at the man beside her. A faint red glow brushed across her cheeks. Connor, however, interpreted this reaction as discomfort, and so shifted his attention elsewhere to spare her further embarrassment. In the distance stood Norris and Myriam, their newfound affections being properly reciprocated.

                “It is comforting to see Myriam and Norris getting along so well,” Connor noted as he lifted a slightly intoxicated Edelweiss onto the saddle of their horse, “considering all the trouble they experienced courting.”

               Edelweiss, much more preoccupied with maintaining her balance and quelling infrequent bouts of vertigo, firmly gripped the front of the saddle from atop the horse with all her might. Confident she had achieved a proper steadiness, she fixated her attention towards the road as her companion prattled on about matters of the heart. The snow had finally ceased, but plentiful traces of its presence littered the ground and penetrated the air. As her breath ghosted before her, a rhythmic cloud of vapor, Edelweiss entertained many thoughts. What was love, anyway? Was it simply a means to an end? A swarm of emotion meant to lead towards marriage? But even then, what was it for? Money? Comfort? Reproduction? Is that what Myriam and Norris sought from one another? What of Prudence and Warren, or the others for that matter? Edelweiss had never truly experienced the normality that comes with the emotion of love. She had loved for money, most definitely, and on occasion, she experienced physical comfort in the arms of a stranger. That being said, she also had experience in the _act_ of reproduction, but all of these actions and feelings were hollow—devoid of any meaning. Nothing ever came from them. They were empty.

                 So what was this fluttering feeling in her stomach she consistently felt with any mention of Connor? What did she want from him? Was it all of these things she’d had before? Was it marriage? She had been around Connor both in town and at the homestead to know he was no stranger to this topic. Repeatedly he had been hassled with the proposition of marriage, but he had always claimed that while it was a possibility, he had much more pressing matters to attend to that would ultimately distract him from being a proper husband.

                 As she pondered this, the fog in her mind seemed to clear while she cautiously returned to reality.

                 “Edelweiss,” he stated firmly with his hand clutching her arm, as if this was not the first time he had said it.

                 Blinking several times, but with an expression of a strong resolve and cool nonchalance, she answered, “Connor.”

                 “I was asking you if you have also considered finding a husband.”

                 Edelweiss diverted her eyes from his slowly before returning and stating, “Perhaps some day, I will. As for now, there are a few other _priorities_ that require my undivided attention.”

                 Connor, who seemed in deep thought as she spoke, nodded firmly, “I… can understand that.”

                 Feeling a bit mischievous, Edelweiss smirked as he gripped the saddle to mount and said with unmatched slickness, “Well, someone has to look after you and I’m really the only one qualified to do it.”

                 Stunned, Connor halted his motions just before he slid a leg over the horse and gawked with uncharacteristic astonishment. Could he have actually caught the suggestivity in her words? This seemed to throw Edelweiss’s courage, causing her to turn away and sputter in an inarticulate mess, “I mean, I have to make sure you come back from your philosophical war with the Templetons!”

                 Having regained his composure, the assassin had properly mounted the horse and released a quiet, though hearty laugh at the girl’s verbal faux-pas. Through soft sniggering, he corrected, “Templars?”

                 As heat swelled into her face, Edelweiss attempted to mask her embarrassment with the only formidable defense mechanism she was familiar with: vulgarity.

                 “Cussed bastards, the lot of 'em!”

                 As the assassin and his companion rode off into the distance, laughter erupted into the night air, bouncing off of all objects in its path. In its company was the less apparent dreams of a young girl who hoped her subtle confession had been properly received, despite her foolishness.

                 But, this _was_ Connor, after all.

 


End file.
